


A Matter of Convenience

by lonelywalker



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Bottom!Hannibal, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-24
Updated: 2013-05-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 20:26:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelywalker/pseuds/lonelywalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Will needs is some anonymous, impersonal sex. Turns out it's not as anonymous or impersonal as he thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Matter of Convenience

He only knew about the app through one of Beverly’s jokes. He’d only downloaded it to his phone out of professional interest. It had the potential for misuse by criminals seeking victims. Even its intended use could be utilized by those displaying the warning signs for psychopathy: impersonal sexual encounters without the need for payment. He had a legitimate need to know about it, to study it. Even Jack would agree.

Even Jack would think that uploading his own profile was a step too far.

It had been two hours since Will had left Hannibal’s office, his way of checking up on Abigail Hobbs without actually needing to see her. He’d intended to go and get lunch somewhere before heading home, but instead he’d just walked. Exercise was good. Even Baltimore’s version of fresh air was good.

At some point, though, he no longer had any idea where he was. It would have been simple enough to ask someone, or call up a map on his phone. What he did was call up another app entirely. Sometimes what he needed was something he didn’t want to talk about, didn’t even want to think about.

A surprising number of profiles popped up: guys on their phones within a few blocks, seeking precisely the same thing he badly needed. Maybe this was what businessmen and students and construction workers did in their lunch hour. Could he condemn that? No. No, he couldn’t.

Making the profile, he’d found himself filling it in without really thinking about it, without really _letting_ himself think about it. It didn’t fit with his own image of himself, this man who posted shots of his own body in the hope someone would want him. Most of the guys seemed younger, more athletic, definitely more experienced. And when he looked at them, those smiling faces, abs, cocks… What did he want? Did he even care?

Evidently he did. Another man who’d chosen not to post his face, which appealed rather than dissuaded. White. Forties. Lean, muscular build. Could be anyone. That was just what he was looking for.

His message was tentative; the reply was almost instant: nothing more than an address.

The door was unlocked when he got there: a second floor walk up, not a bad neighborhood but a cheap one. Precisely the sort of room you might rent for this sort of midday escapade, and it really was just one room when Will stepped inside and took it all in. He shut the door quietly, turned the lock. The walls were a pristine white, the windows clean and unshuttered. The only piece of furniture was a bed. A surprisingly nice bed, decked out in pristine white linen. A man was lying there, and for a second Will’s heart stopped.

He was face down, one pillow beneath his head, another under his hips. He was naked, unmoving. His arms were stretched out in front of him, hands bound with cord at the wrists. It could have been a crime scene. He could be dead.

Will stripped off his jacket and let it fall by the door. He moved closer, close enough that he could see that the man was breathing. He could also see the condom packet lying between his thighs.

Undressing might have been far from the point of this arrangement, but Will did it anyway, slowly, carefully, his eyes on the bed the entire time. The man made no sound, never looked back. He could have been asleep, but Will could sense he was perfectly awake, just exerting far more self-control and confidence than Will might ever muster. How could he leave himself like this, perfectly vulnerable, willing to be fucked or worse by whoever happened to walk in?

He was hard by the time he pulled off his pants, and being ashamed of the growing bulge in his shorts made absolutely no difference. It might even have ignited some deeper, more desperate desire, the same desire that stopped him from saying, “Are you sure you want this?”, and made him rip open the condom packet instead.

How long had it been since he’d touched another human being this way? Not long, if you counted corpses. But this man was warm when Will touched him, even spread his legs a little more as Will knelt between them, squeezing that firm ass, running a finger down to confirm that, yes, he was already slick, beyond slick, with lubricant. _Just a piece of meat._ The thought entered his mind unbidden and he pushed it away. 

Will half-expected the man to lie there still and just take it when he pushed inside, even though that was the first thing he hadn’t done slowly. He wanted a goddamn reaction and he got one, even if it was just a gasp of a moan and the man pushing back against him with far more force than Will had anticipated, demanding more than Will had been prepared to give. Needy bastard, but at least it gave him an excuse, the excuse he needed to just fuck the guy, to reach out and press down on the back of his head, keeping him exactly where he was, maybe half smothering him. Being inside him felt so good Will didn’t even care. He might care later. He might.

The guy was still moving though, as they found a rhythm together, and he awkwardly reached under himself with a groan, making Will think for the first time about his cock and how it might feel. His own erection almost hurt at the thought of it and he backed up just a little, tugging on the guy’s hips to get him to lift up onto knees and elbows. Will pushed the guy’s hands away and stroked him, feeling all of him, that burning hot, achingly hard length. It took him a few moments to get the rhythm right again, his thrusts, his strokes, but soon enough neither of them could keep quiet anymore. Their breathing sounded like screams in the empty, echoing room, and Will caught himself thinking the other guy’s moans were ridiculously loud before he realized half of them were his own. So, so fucking _close_.

It was the other guy tensing up, the other guy spurting over his fingers that made him come, his cry bouncing off those white walls.

They fell back to the mattress together and Will closed his eyes. Just for a moment, for a few moments, he could finally feel nothing but good, think of nothing but the warm body beneath him as their breathing gradually steadied, as he gradually softened and eventually pulled off the condom. He wiped his hand on the comforter and stood back up. He was covered in sweat, but he could take a long hot shower when he got home. Eat something. Sleep through the night. Everything would be all right.

He dressed again, unhurried, the man still just lying there. Will drank in the details of that body, the almost unreal perfection of it, in that it had just been here, presenting itself to him just when he needed it most. If only he could come back again, feel this relief again.

But he said nothing, finished tying his shoelaces, and stood to go.

“Will.”

He stopped where he was and heard the man roll over. He didn’t want to look back. He didn’t want to see. He wanted to wake up.

But when he turned, because he couldn’t help but turn, he was still in the room and Hannibal was still there, sweat-soaked hair matted to his forehead, holding out his bound hands. “If you could.”

Will swallowed and stepped in. The knots were tight, god knew how he’d managed to tie them in the first place, and they were a good excuse not to meet Hannibal’s eyes. But the cord finally fell away and he had to look. Had he known before? Had he deliberately made himself _not_ know? He licked dry lips and swallowed again. He had to say something, justify himself.

But Hannibal, unreasonably composed, just said: “Same time tomorrow?”

Will nodded before he could think about it, picked up his jacket by the door, and fled.


End file.
